


Thy will be done

by MrsCaulfield



Series: Divine Intervention [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, An ode to White Suit Crowley, Aziraphale has sugar daddy tendencies, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, Filthy kissing, Hand Jobs, Hedonist Aziraphale (Good Omens), Kitchen Sex, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Religious Elements, Soft explicit smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29332635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCaulfield/pseuds/MrsCaulfield
Summary: Aziraphale prays over his morning coffee.Eyes clamped shut, neck craning towards the ceiling."All this I receive as a blessing from You."*Directly follows the events of 'Lamp to my feet'
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Divine Intervention [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123709
Comments: 54
Kudos: 229
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This part came out a bit long, so lo and behold, it'll have 2 chapters. I can't tag it as PWP cause *gasps* it actually has plot stuff this time 
> 
> I've had this fic on a gdoc for a while now and my dumbass accidentally linked my students to it so. (FUN FACT!!! I work in a catholic uni !!!!!) This damn better be worth it because I feel very much like sinking into a gravestone rn :)

Aziraphale prays over his morning coffee.

A short, barely there whisper that nudges past his lips and sends plumose ripples radiating over the surface of his drink. Swift, but in potency it might as well be an entire altar service. With one steady hand over the handle of his mug and early sunlight filtering in from the windows, it's quiet, both in and out of doors. But though he is aware She knows the desires of his heart, his heart is in portions. Caught in a war. It takes greater effort to meditate, to redirect the compass of his inclinations to True North, but he makes the prayer anyway, despite not knowing what it holds for him. Despite knowing there exists a chance that it will somehow break him.

_Let Thy will be done._

Lids fluttering closed. The warm scent of coffee fills his nose as he brings up his mug to take another sip.

_I am receptive to my calling. Only send me a sign, any sign, and I will bend to Your will._

A force pushes from behind, and his lids drag themselves open as he's pressed into the kitchen counter by a muscled chest to his back and a raging erection grinding into his arse.

Anthony's rumbling voice lands into the shell of his ear. "What d'you say, angel?"

Aziraphale melts into the long sigh that slips out of him, letting strong hands settle on his ample hips as Anthony rolls slowly against him. His free hand relinquishes the rim of the mug to reach behind, threading into that copper nest of sleep-mussed hair.

Anthony's hands slide over to his belly, gliding and caressing, and fiddles with the belt of Aziraphale's robe.

Aziraphale places the mug on the counter and turns around, forcing Anthony to take a half-step back, mild surprise evident in his sleep-worn expression.

"Something wrong?"

Breath catches in his throat when he sees him, bare-chested with his tight black trousers hanging low on his hips. Sunlight paints flecks of gold on each groove of the sinuous lean muscle of his shoulders and arms. Aziraphale bites his lip, grounding himself to keep from reaching out. 

Anthony makes it so difficult to surrender into Her will, and he doesn't want to be thinking like that. God has been the one constant, the solid rock of his life. He has always yielded to Her plans. Even Anthony, the gift She sent upon his insistent request, isn't actually his. They can have these wild forays stolen in the dark of night, but there seems to be something more corruptive when presented with the arresting sight of Anthony in broad daylight. 

With Anthony in full display, his eyes rendered ochre in the new light, all his selfish desires are amplified, and it becomes impossible to sit idly by and let this moment slip past him.

"I do so like to be fucked. Especially by you."

The smirk grows on Anthony's lips. "Yeah, I kinda got that."

He schools himself to a more determined expression. "But I also like to be kissed."

Anthony's brows fly up to his hairline. "Oh." He ducks his head, giving a quick peck over his mouth. "Like that?"

He shakes his head. "If we're to continue doing this, I want to be kissed," he demands, daring Anthony to contest. "Before, during, _and_ after."

The redhead goes quiet for a moment, and even right now in a relatively exposed state, Aziraphale curses his ability to appear unaffected. His face falls and he starts to falter. "Am I asking for too much?"

Anthony shuts him up with a fierce kiss, teeth grazing teasingly over his lip. Aziraphale yelps, but he's quick to respond. He returns the kiss, leaning into him, inhaling deeply.

_I surrender my all to you._

A moment's shock stills his train of thought—and he should really be putting more effort into wondering what made him think that—but Anthony's hand has crept into the open fold of his robe and is moving up the expanse of his bare thigh and he finds he can't allocate much of his brainpower to anything else.

The hand moves up to his groin then slides back to grab his buttock. Aziraphale gasps, and it's taken as an invitation for Anthony to slip his tongue in. They kiss languidly, hips grinding, the press of their hardened cocks producing the most diverting sensations. Anthony pulls back to kiss down his neck. His collarbone. His hands pry apart Aziraphale's robe and he bends at the knee to place several wet kisses down his chest. Aziraphale's breathing goes ragged, and he leans back, clutching the edge of the counter for dear life.

"You are a menace," he says, but his voice lacks bite. Anthony grins into his chest, one hand slipping inside his robe to grab a handful of his chest, sliding down to pinch his nipple into a sharp peak. _"Oh,_ you fiend!" Aziraphale groans. 

The robe slips off one of his shoulders, and he barely registers that it's because Anthony has tugged loose the belt on his waist. Anthony's lips drop kisses over to the flesh around his nipple, gusts of air blowing from his nose as he laughs silently, driving Aziraphale mad with desire. He arches his back, attempting to press the nub into Anthony's mouth, but instead he draws away.

Aziraphale makes an embarrassing whimper at the loss, but he can't even find it in himself to be ashamed.

Anthony pouts mockingly, both hands pressing onto his chest, fingers catching his nipples and pinching hard at the same time. Aziraphale all but screams, heaving forward. His hands have gone numb from clutching the counter, and he doesn't know how much longer he can remain standing

"Anthony!" He tries to scold, but it sounds like begging instead, and it only makes the redhead more smug. "Please."

"Very well," he replies, bending down to level with his chest again. "Since you did ask for kisses. And you looked so pretty doing it."

His mouth latches onto Aziraphale's nipple while his hand plays with the other. He grazes his teeth on the raised nub, flicks it with his tongue, then moves to give an eager suck that draws a series of obscene moans from Aziraphale's throat.

"Ah! Yes. Yesyesyesyes..." He sounds like a blockhead, but he doesn't even care. Who can make an attempt to be coherent at a time like this? He cards his fingers into Anthony's hair, petting the back of his head to show his appreciation. His chest grows increasingly flushed, chasing the rosy shade of the fabric of his robe. Anthony pulls back with a loud smack, but his long tongue comes out immediately, laving just the tip over the nipple before finally parting with it to pay the same attentions to the other one.

Aziraphale practically squeals with delight, directly facing the ceiling as more pleasured noises rip out of him beyond his control. "My God... oh, oh _God..."_

When Anthony pulls back, he takes a moment to draw up to his full height and takes Aziraphale's lips in his. Aziraphale sighs and melts into them, hair's width away from sobbing with tears just to show how completely grateful he is. But that would only give Anthony more cause to tease him later. He holds back.

Anthony withdraws with a mischievous grin, then he sinks to his knees.

His hands part the robe around Aziraphale's thighs, bunching them around below the swell of his bum and leaving his erection in full display. Anthony takes in the flushed tip, glistening with precome, with a hungry gaze. Aziraphale watches with rapt attention as his long tongue makes contact to collect the sheen from his head, and his knees nearly give out on him. He steadies himself with his cold, white-knuckled grip on the counter. He's still a bit sore from last night's activities, and there's a burn in his thighs as he widens his stance on the floor to give Anthony more access to his groin. When Anthony takes the tip into his mouth, Aziraphale's lips part into an enthusiastic groan.

He cants his hips, trying to get more of him into that wet heat, but Anthony grasps his sides and holds him still against the counter. His mouth pulls back and closes, puckering ever so slightly before pressing back on his tip.

Aziraphale groans. "Can you please get on with it?"

"You said you wanted more kisses."

His hand finds its way to Anthony's head, grasping at the wild red strands and pulling hard. 

A drop of fear flickers in his ochre eyes.

"Don't use my words against me," he says archly. "You know exactly what I mean, and I asked you _nicely._ And you do _not_ want to see me when I can't be bothered to be nice."

Instantly, Anthony's gaze darkens. Aziraphale loosens his grip, hastily regretting his words.

“You seem to forget who’s in charge here.”

Red colours his cheeks as he suppresses a cheeky grin. “I have the right to complain about unsatisfactory service.”

With a growl, Anthony straightens up, staring him down. Before Aziraphale can come up with another haughty remark, long fingers move to thread through strands of his hair, pushing back and twisting at the back of his scalp. Aziraphale gasps as his neck is bared, his heart thudding wildly.

Anthony’s voice is a deep rumble. “When have I not satisfied you, angel?”

“Never,” he replies shakily. _Dear God, he has the most beautiful brown eyes._

The smirk that forms on his devastatingly handsome face is way too cocky, but Aziraphale can’t find the energy to be snarky about it. He is caught by this gorgeous _demon,_ trapped and wholly possessed by him.

All he wants to do is be good.

Anthony’s hand trails down the side of his face, caressing his plump cheek. His stare is hot and heavy and Aziraphale wants to drown himself in it. Wants Anthony to look at him for all of eternity. 

“I’ll let it go for now. You’re lucky you’ve such a pretty face for a slut.” He leans in, ghosting his lips over Aziraphale’s trembling mouth. Aziraphale’s instinct is to chase it, but Crowley keeps himself a scant distance away. “And what do you say, angel?”

“Thank you,” he mumbles shyly, his entire body warm with excitement.

“Now what will you do?”

“I want to be good for you,” he replies gently, leaning in. This time, Anthony allows one chaste kiss. He looks deep into Anthony’s eyes. “Please. Do what you want to me. Whatever you want.”

“That’s better.”

Much to his insane relief, Anthony dives back down to engulf his entire length in his mouth.

Aziraphale takes in a stuttered gasp, one hand perched on Anthony's shoulder, the other gripping the edge of the counter and going completely numb. He trembles when Anthony increases the suction, going at him without mercy—a cold contrast to the teasing ministrations he was doing just now. One hand claws into the meat of Aziraphale's butt while the other has a bruising grasp on his thigh. Anthony moves along his length in a steady rhythm, his tongue a warm cushion hugging every inch of the underside of his shaft, and it's not long before Aziraphale approaches his climax. He tries to give a warning, tugs on Anthony's hair, but the latter just resumes his activity, waiting on his impending orgasm like it's the very reward he's been aiming for.

With a throat-rippling scream, he spills into Anthony's mouth, his entire face going numb with pleasure. Anthony takes in every drop, his eyes wide with interest and framed with delicate lashes, never breaking contact with his. Aziraphale pulls him off as he's beginning to soften. He draws him into a messy kiss, one that he doesn't mind even though it's streaked with traces of his own cum.

He wastes no time in grabbing Anthony's waistband and tugging it down along with his underwear past his hips. His large hand grabs Anthony at the base, gripping firmly and tugging all the way to the tip, where he curls his palm to collect the slick. Anthony moans into his mouth, bucking into his hand. Aziraphale pays reverence to his mouth, kissing sweetly while he frantically pumps Anthony's pulsating cock. But the slide isn't all that satisfying. He pulls back with one quick kiss to the corner of Anthony's mouth, watching those brown eyes flutter open in confusion. He giggles and mumbles, "One moment."

He falls on his knees and takes Anthony in his mouth in one smooth motion. Anthony's thighs quiver instantly, and now it's him leaning forward to grasp the edges of the counter, narrow hips thrusting readily into Aziraphale's mouth. Aziraphale relishes in the flickering curl of delight that sweeps through him as Anthony whines beautifully, handsome features drawing into indescribable pleasure.

Oh, he is _weak_ for this. 

But that's not what he plans on doing for now. With some reluctance, he pulls off and resumes his previous standing position, now caged in Anthony's arms. 

"W-what? Angel, what the fuck?" 

Aziraphale shushes him with a kiss and takes Anthony in hand. It isn't a direct consolation for his mouth, he knows. But the abundance of slick and saliva has generated a smoother glide and Anthony lets out stuttered moans, losing himself into it.

"Angel... I'm gonna come." His gaze is burning into his. 

"What shall I do about it, my dear?" He asks sweetly.

Anthony groans and pushes on his shoulder. He goes willingly, back to landing on his knees just as Anthony reaches his climax. Aziraphale closes his eyes and clamps his mouth shut, receiving spurts of Anthony's cum all over his cheeks, on his lips, sliding down his jaw. He arches his head, craning towards the ceiling. 

_All this I receive, as a blessing from You._

More drops of cum land on his neck and chest, until finally, Anthony leans over the counter, holding himself up by his arms, and breathes heavily.

Aziraphale is up again in a flash, walking to the sink to clean himself up while Anthony recollects himself from his orgasm.

"I do need to leave in a bit, angel."

He turns to face him, falling into a bleak look. "Oh, um. Of course."

Anthony crowds him into the counter, leaning in to nose at his chin. "Got work in a bit, and I still need to get back to my place and change."

He draws his arms into himself and tries not to make his expression crumble. He resists the urge to look up at the ceiling.

He has, perhaps, enjoyed this too much. It's time to let Anthony go.

"Yes, ah, thank you for last night, I am... very grateful." He winces at how pathetic he sounds.

Anthony hooks a finger under his chin, drawing it up to level with his gaze. "You make it sound like we're never gonna see each other again."

 _"Are_ we gonna see each other again? I don't know, Anthony. I don't even know whether you want to do this again."

His haughty look is no match for the lingering amusement on Anthony's face. Aziraphale doesn't understand why this person can never take anything seriously. Anthony chuckles and drops a chaste kiss to his mouth. 

"Can't resist. You're adorable when you're upset." Anthony pulls back, half-shrugging. "Is that what you want? To do all this again?"

Still pouting, Aziraphale averts his gaze and nods stiffly.

Anthony kisses him again. "So adorable."

His response is a petulant groan, and he looks up at Anthony through his lashes with burning blue eyes as he says, "You're not going to get better sex from anyone else."

Anthony's eyes widen by a fraction, struck by the gravity in his tone. He laughs. "I know."

"You'll also be hard-pressed to find someone prettier than me."

Anthony leans in and kisses his cheek, one and then the other. He drops a quick peck on his nose before doing the same to his still pouting mouth.

"Don't I know that, too. Fuck, angel. You're gorgeous."

"And I've yet to properly suck your cock."

Anthony groans deep and traps his lips into a filthy kiss, tongue dragging into his mouth. He pulls back a little breathlessly, resting his forehead on Aziraphale's. "You make a good point. Guess I will need to come back."

Aziraphale isn't ready to let him off the hook. "Only once?"

Anthony laughs again, and there are lines that form around the corners of his eyes that Aziraphale finds extremely endearing.

"Oh no. As much as I want. As much as you're willing to give."

Satisfied, Aziraphale glides his hands up Anthony's chest, fingers fluttering over his skin before settling on his bare shoulders.

"Then you better be back. And if it takes you a week to respond to my messages again, I _will_ sue."

* * *

They meet up a few times more over the next month, and it can only be described as bliss. Aziraphale treasures their moments together, unable to determine exactly until when he is allowed to have this splendid thing but resolute on enjoying it while he can. Sometimes Anthony has to cancel on him with some excuse or another and Aziraphale tries not to hold it against him. He tries not to be paranoid, but the truth is he gets frightened at every hint and sign of disinterest from Anthony. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep holding his attention, doesn't know how to keep him and tuck him within himself. He only knows that God has given him Anthony as a precious gift, and what She has given, She can also take away.

His fears are stoked one night when it occurs to him that his phone has been painfully silent for the past six hours. It's late into the night, and Anthony is working another catering job, but he usually manages to squeeze in a few short texts even while working. Even if they're downright nonsensical at times. He seems to have taken to Aziraphale's threat of suing him if he replies late and amped it up to be a downright nuisance who won't stop texting him even when he should. Most of the time, Aziraphale doesn't bother to reply, and he pretends that he doesn't enjoy being showered with Anthony's nonsensational text messages.

This time, though, he doesn't say anything. Aziraphale tries not to worry, but it's a frail attempt anyway. He glances at his watch. Anthony should be getting off work soon, and he has his car keys in hand before he even knows what he's decided on.

It's a small miracle that Anthony texted him the previous night where he'd be working, and when Aziraphale arrives at some other posh hotel, he sends Anthony a text. 

_'I'm parked outside.'_

His thumb dithers over the 'Send' button. He doesn't even know whether Anthony wants him to be here.

_'You don't have to come see me if you don't want to. Just in case.'_

He adds that and presses send.

Anthony shows up a few minutes later, walking up to the passenger's side door like he has several times before. Aziraphale can't help but stare at him. He's always thought Anthony to be a vision in his waiter's uniform, and even after all they've done, that slim white suit still drives Aziraphale mad with want. He will never get tired of the sight. But tonight, there's a slight weariness on Anthony's face, the corners of his mouth drawn into a frown. His hair is tousled far more than usual, not at all like that carelessly styled look he usually goes after. He opens the car door and sags limply onto the seat.

Aziraphale opens his mouth to speak. "Are you all—"

"What makes you think that I wouldn't want to see you?"

Anthony's voice is softer than its usual register. It tugs at Aziraphale's frail heartstrings and leaves him helpless as Anthony leans in to give him a kiss.

Aziraphale eagerly returns the kiss, angling his head and molding his lips to Anthony's, pulling back with soft sounds before moving in for more. But Anthony is barely responsive. He sits quietly, his lips pliant but still.

Aziraphale pulls back, concerned.

Anthony leans back in his seat and sighs. "Some mishaps with the kitchen staff tonight. Had to go around and around and around to fix everything. Was a close call."

Aziraphale badly wants to hold him. "I'll just take you back to your place."

"Probably for the best."

He fixes his eyes on the windshield and starts to drive. "Um, Anthony. It just occurred to me that I do not know where you live."

It takes a moment for his reply to come. "Right, yeah. I'll tell you where to go."

* * *

Anthony's flat is a modest one-bedroom that's very sparsely furnished. "It's not much. S'really just a place to crash," he says as they enter through the doors.

Aziraphale takes in the bare grey walls, the uncomfortable-looking furniture, the emptiness of the shelving spaces, and the clean kitchen that looks like it hasn't seen any actual food in years. It's so different from Aziraphale's own space, cluttered to the brim with every sentimental piece that he clings to, almost like a nest at this point. The contrast is a little amusing, and he finds a small comfort in the sole fact that this is, without a doubt, Anthony's space.

Anthony toes off his shoes by the door, staggering a little on wobbly knees, and Aziraphale takes this as a sign to take his leave.

"Well, I should probably head—"

Anthony closes the distance between them, gathering him into his arms and draping his entire lanky form over Aziraphale's front. His mouth finds Aziraphale's into a searing kiss. "You're so good to me, angel," he mumbles into his lips, but his voice lacks heat. His fingers find Aziraphale's bowtie, already unraveling the fabric, and Aziraphale grabs his wrists, stilling their movement.

"What's your last name?"

Given everything they've done, the question sounds absurd to them both, but Aziraphale is overcome with the need to know the answer. He wants to know this. Even just this. He knows so little about him.

Anthony also looks a bit dazed as he replies. "Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley."

The sound of his name brings a light feeling to his chest. Anthony kisses him again. Aziraphale inhales deeply, grasping his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks for a brief moment before reluctantly stepping away from his embrace. "You're tired, dearest."

Anthony scoffs. "No, no. M'fine, I can still—" he reaches forward towards Aziraphale's crotch, where his cock has grown half-hard just from kissing, though he's trying his hardest to ignore that right now.

He seizes Anthony's wrist. "You don't have to do anything for me. Just get to bed. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

Anthony draws away with a heavy sigh, nodding. "Been picking up mn work, for shmhhmff... for B'tley."

Aziraphale doesn't understand it, and the most logical conclusion he can come to is that he must have a pet named Bentley.

He takes off his shoes and places a hand on Anthony's back. "Let's get you comfortable, my dear."

He helps Anthony strip down to his underwear and tucks him into his bed, which turns out to be the only item in the whole flat that he's bothered with trying to make comfortable. It's a bit large for just one person, but Aziraphale is familiar with his tendency to sprawl out with his gangly limbs on any space he happens to find repose in. Aziraphale draws up his legs to the bed, sitting with his back on the headboard as Anthony snuggles up to his side and drapes an arm over his waist. He runs his hands into Anthony's hair and tries to think of something to say. By the time he's able to come up with a ridiculous joke, Anthony is already snoring beside his lap.

He's never seen Anthony quite this vulnerable before. It's such a different experience from all the other times they've fallen into bed together and it fills his heart with an overwhelming surge of affection. 

And in the silence, he wonders how long he'll be allowed to have this.

The shadows on his peaceful features only make him an even more enchanting sight. Aziraphale runs his hand down the side of his face. Anthony, still asleep, leans slightly into the touch, a soft sigh mixing into his whistling snores.

He is God's most precious gift.

Aziraphale looks up at the unfamiliar ceiling and hopes that it will suffice.

_I will make myself worthy. Please, please just let me keep him._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fic posting sched got delayed a bit cause i've been going through some major life changes and right now i'm in the process of moving out so it's been a bit hectic, but it should stabilize again within the next two weeks <3
> 
> Follow me on twitter for more cumbum daddy shenanigans ! @angelsnuffbox


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments from the 1st chapter!! It's just been a hectic past couple of weeks so I can't respond to every one but I really really appreciate them! Thanks also for the well wishes <3 I've fully moved into my new place now and things are finally starting to settle down, so here's the next chapter :)
> 
> This has so much plot ohmygod. Huge thanks to my beta Stef (crepesandoysters) for the idea on how to incorporate the Bentley into this!

One fair afternoon on a weekend has the two of them in Aziraphale's car. It's one of those rare times where neither of them has any plans for most of the day, or the day after. Aziraphale has just picked Anthony up from his latest catering job and they’re traveling back to Aziraphale's flat. Anthony's phone keeps pinging, and each sound is a minor grating nuisance that he tries to ignore. He casts his annoyances aside, though, when he sees that every text has Anthony looking increasingly troubled.

"Is everything all right?"

Anthony waves him off, barely looking up from his screen. "S'fine. Don't worry about it."

He tries not to feel offended by the dismissal. Anthony isn't obligated to tell him everything that goes on in his life. They're just...

Well.

Aziraphale doesn't know  _ what _ they are exactly. They argue like old friends and fuck like newly-weds on an expensive honeymoon. That doesn't exactly say very much about why they're still spending as much time as they can together. At least in Aziraphale's case, he knows it's because he doesn't have much else to occupy him and he also doesn't have many other friends. He's always thought that Anthony is a bit similar, what with the amount of time he throws into his job. Now he’s starting to doubt that conjecture.

He stops the car in front of the patisserie near his flat. "Let me just pick up a few things."

Anthony nods and moves to get out of the car.

Aziraphale holds the door open for him, the scent of warm butter instantly filling his nose, when Anthony's phone rings and vibrates on his palm. 

"You go ahead. Er, I have to take this." He smiles apologetically.

Aziraphale heads into the shop and wills himself not to panic. This is nothing out of the ordinary. Anthony is entitled to have other friends and not tell Aziraphale about it. That doesn't mean that he's about to end their—whatever it is they have going on.

He makes his purchase and heads to the exit with a fancy plastic bag of pastries in hand. Through the glass doors, he spots Anthony pacing on the pavement, raking his hands in his hair as he mutters wildly into the phone.

Anthony's back is turned to him when he steps out onto the pavement, and Aziraphale gets within earshot just in time to hear him coo into the phone: "Oh no, baby... Yeah. Yeah, I'll be right there."

He hangs up the phone.

Aziraphale just  _ stares. _

"Aziraphale, I'm sorry. I have to go. Got an urgent thing."

He crumbles all the way.

It never even occurred to him to ask whether Anthony was single.

_ God, I have been a most pathetic nincompoop. _

He clears his throat, trying to make his voice sound not strained. "Yes, o-of course, my dear. Mind how you go."

Anthony's gaze darts around before landing on him again. "Do you mind giving me a lift?"

Aziraphale is tempted to scream, to tell him  _ 'Take a cab for once, arsehole'  _ and fling a danish at his infuriatingly handsome cheekbones, but he's too far gone. He’s powerless against Anthony, especially when he looks that troubled. Not to mention it's a waste of a perfectly good danish.

He sighs and opens the door to his car while Anthony gets in from the other side.

"Thanks," Anthony says with great sincerity. "I'll give you directions."

Aziraphale starts the car and wills himself not to break. 

Whoever this person is, Anthony must care for them a great deal. And with the faint ache growing in his heart, he finds himself asking a question he's never had to ask in his life:  _ How does one become that blessed? _

* * *

Few minutes into the duration of the ride and Aziraphale's mind is screaming bloody murder at him, once again asking what the hell he's doing and why he's  _ driving _ Anthony over to meet with his other lover. (Or perhaps, the  _ real _ beau.) It leaves a metallic taste on his tongue. As per usual, Anthony tells him when to turn the car in that casual manner of his, even while his chest is constricting. He's an idiot. A real bloody besotted idiot who really needs to learn when to stop when it comes to Anthony. 

He slams on the breaks.

"What the hell are we doing?"

Anthony grips his seat, gobsmacked. "You were giving me a ride?"

"Yes, and  _ why _ am I doing this?" Despite himself, he sniffles. "Why are you making me do this?"

"What, I thought you wouldn't mind—"

"I wouldn't  _ mind?"  _ Aziraphale all but yells past the stinging in his chest. "Anthony, I know that we don't... we haven't talked about what-what  _ this _ is but I thought..."  _ I thought I was the only one, _ he wants to say, but he chokes off instead.

Anthony reaches out to him. "Angel, what's wrong?"

He cuts him off with a sharp look and the hand freezes in midair.

"You have some nerve calling me that under these circumstances!"

Anthony blinks through his confusion. "What have I done wrong? Honestly, was it something I said? For God's sake, angel, help me out here. Why're you so angry?"

"What, you swoop in to see me at that party, call me  _ angel _ while you fuck my brains out and draw me back into your orbit every chance you get and expect me to  _ not _ be mad about where we're going?"

Anthony gapes, opens and closes his mouth a few times. "Why would you be mad about me seeing my mechanic?"

"You are dating your  _ mechanic?" _ Aziraphale heaves an affronted gasp.

Whites go all around Anthony's brown eyes. "What? The  _ fuck?  _ Hastur showers like twice a month, tops!" He scrunches his nose like he can smell the very idea. 

He doesn't buy it. "Don't lie to me. I heard you on the phone saying you're off to see your baby!"

Anthony freezes, the corners of his lips tugging up and down like they down know exactly  _ what _ they should be doing in this situation. 

"Aziraphale, will you use that brain inside that pretty head of yours? Why else would I be going to my mechanic? I need to see my  _ car." _

"What?" Aziraphale stutters out, barely breathing. "Then who on earth is 'baby'— _ oh." _

Anthony's cheeks flood with a delicate shade of red.

The baby is his car. 

Aziraphale almost prays, then and there, that he be assimilated into the leather of his seat.

He doesn't get the chance to, because Anthony grabs his face and drags him into a hot, filthy kiss, teeth nipping and tongue sliding in. He kisses deeply until Aziraphale feels his teeth digging uncomfortably into his lips, and even then Anthony doesn't stop. He clicks off his seatbelt and leans over the seats until Aziraphale's back hits the window, his hand finding a familiar spot over his tartan bow tie and fiddling with the fabric. 

When he pulls back, he's grinning madly.

"You really had me worried there. Silly angel."

Aziraphale flushes, pushing him away. "It isn't my fault. You would hardly even tell me what's going on."

He resumes driving, resolutely avoiding Anthony's gaze.

Anthony's hand finds his own on the steering wheel, prying off his hold to thread their fingers. His voice is a low but earnest whisper when he speaks. 

"There isn't anyone, okay?”

"I don't know what you mean," Aziraphale replies petulantly. "I haven't asked about anything and you need not tell me anything."

"Well I'm telling you anyway." Anthony pulls their joined hands over to his lap. "I'm not seeing anyone. I'm not with anyone... else."

Aziraphale almost sobs with relief.

But he says nothing.

Anthony sighs. "Are you...?"

"No," he replies shyly. "No, I'm not either."

From the corner of his eye, he spots a stunned look on Anthony's face, followed by a grin so wide it overtakes all his other features.

"That's good, then. Oh, turn left here."

* * *

'Baby', as it turns out, is a 1920s vintage Bentley that Anthony has had for years.

Aziraphale is considerably impressed. He has a deep appreciation for vintage items, but his fussiness has never translated to automobiles. He prefers the simplicity of a modest modern-looking car and the way that it doesn't draw too much attention. But somehow this car befits Anthony perfectly: sleek, beautiful, captivating. Slight in vision but entirely resilient. Seeing Anthony's face as soon as he runs his hands over the hood makes something warm blossom in his chest. 

"Bought it from another owner some years back. Bad finance decision, I know. Don't judge me, moneybags."

Aziraphale blinks, offended. "I wasn't going to say anything."

Anthony turns back to the car. "Was impulsive, yeah, but t'was love at first sight." He gives a forlorn sigh. "But she's been acting up for some time now. Not easy to get parts for her, so I'm expecting it'll cost a fortune to repair. Hence the additional catering jobs."

"Dear..."

"And now Hastur tells me the parts have to be shipped from god knows where and it'll cost even more than I initially thought."

His brown eyes, usually the grand feature of his unaffected mask, are bursting with emotion. Aziraphale can't tear his eyes away.

"I can't..." Anthony mumbles, still gazing at his car. "It's madness now really. But I can't sell her. We've been through so much together."

Aziraphale dares to take a step closer. He cups Anthony's cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Now I'm sure it won't come to that."

He walks up to Hastur with much confidence for someone who has never had to be in an auto repair in his life. But he's composed, because this can only be a sign. This is how he is meant to care for his precious gift.

Hastur grunts by way of greeting. "Who're you?"

Aziraphale shoots him a winning beam. "Whatever it is that Anthony's car needs, please do take care of it. With haste, if you please."

Hastur gives him an appraising look, clearly unimpressed. "It's gonna take ages to get the parts here, not to mention it'll cost ya."

Aziraphale huffs, turning up his nose. His gentle blue eyes bear down on Hastur like the fearsome creature he wants to appear to be. "If I had thought the expense would be troublesome, I would not have bothered with coming up here at all. As it stands, you will get the job done in the speediest manner possible. I am sure this car misses Anthony dearly."

Anthony skids up to his side, hands flailing. "Angel, wait. What are you—"

Aziraphale silences him with one hand held up to his mouth. "Dearest, let's not do this."

"I'm not letting  _ you _ do this," Anthony mumbles against the press of his finger.

"If it helps to soothe your qualms, you may pay me back when you can. Don't you want to be reunited with your car?"

Anthony casts a sidelong glance over at the Bentley, his shoulders sagging as he sighs in defeat.

He fights the urge to reach forward and snog Anthony. There will be time for that—and way more—later, when they get to his flat. "Wonderful." Turning back to Hastur, he raises an eyebrow and haughtily says, “Now, if you would please?”

But that way he said it was nowhere near to being a request.

* * *

Aziraphale feels very lightheaded as they step out of the shop and walk back to his car. There's quite a few things to celebrate about today, and he's already making a mental list of what he'll be including in his daily devotions the following morning.

He moves to grab the door handle, but a hand reaches out to stop his arm. 

He twists back to look at Anthony, who steps forward, crowding him into the side of the vehicle with a heated, predatory gaze. Aziraphale gets a whiff of his perfume, and a massive flush creeps up his neck as he melts into him. He steadies himself with a desperate clutch to Anthony's shirt, right over his stomach.

"Quite the heroic deed you pulled in there," Anthony says sultrily, his nose grazing his cheek and nudging playfully.

Aziraphale musters the energy for an eye roll, though his insides are flaming up. "Really, dear, it was more that you looked so worn over the sight of your old car. You were practically begging."

Anthony shuts him up with a snap of his hips, pinning him to the door. He snarls. "I don't beg." The tip of his nose makes a light-footed path down Aziraphale's jaw, then up to his hair where he takes a deep inhale. Aziraphale suppresses a shiver, his eyes drifting shut. He vaguely registers the backdoor of his car being opened. Anthony growls into his ear. "But I love it when  _ you _ do. Get in, angel."

Aziraphale scrambles to get in the backseat. Anthony follows him immediately, slamming the door shut behind him and straddling his lap. He fists Aziraphale's curls and crushes their mouths, the kiss being a little on the side of painful—clacking teeth and tongues not quite meeting, but it's lovely and it drives Aziraphale mad. He unfurls with each heated press of their lips, and then Anthony starts  _ talking. _

"Want to see you debauched, you gorgeous thing," he murmurs against Aziraphale's lips and he preens with the praise, desperately clutching the fabric of Anthony's shirt, silently begging for more. 

As always, Anthony knows what he wants, what he's asking for, and he gives it exactly  _ how _ he wants it. He fists Aziraphale's hair at the base of his skull, tugging back. Aziraphale releases a gasp at the sight that meets him.

There's fury in Anthony's eyes, his jaw tightly clenched. 

"You're so fucking  _ pretty," _ he hisses, crushing their mouths. Aziraphale feels like his lips are about to bruise, but he's powerless to stop him. He presses back, barely catching up with the eagerness of Anthony's mouth, and he thinks he's about to burst with the strength, the  _ rawness _ of his  _ want, _ but he only sits there and lets Anthony do whatever he wants.

Anthony grumbles deep. "So properly dressed, but under me you just fall apart. Completely undone."

His moan is a needy, shameless thing. He grabs handfuls of Anthony's pert arse, pulling down to grind their erections together. Anthony gives an appreciative hum and pulls back, pupils blown wide. "D'you have any idea how fucking  _ hot _ that is?"

A curl of satisfaction tugs at his insides, warming him all over as Anthony continues to kiss him in the most brutal fashion. It's nothing like he's ever experienced before. Each forceful kiss gives him life, each harsh tug over his collar is a calling. A mission.  _ This _ is what he had been primed for, what he was  _ made _ to do. Every past relationship, every heartbreak and every filthy quick fuck over a dingy toilet were mere obstacles that prepared him to be a good toy for this striking red-haired man riding his lap. And now he intends to fulfill his purpose. 

He fiddles with the hem of Anthony's dark t-shirt, slightly pulling back to mumble lovingly at his lips. "I thought you were already a vision in white, but you are also delectable in black, my dear. You probably look good in anything, and well, in nothing as well."

Anthony drags him into another filthy kiss, rolling his hips on top of Aziraphale.

His hands trail down to Aziraphale's chest, tugging at his buttons, and through the heavy fog of his own lust-addled brain, Aziraphale manages to pull back long enough to say, "Anthony, we should get to my flat."

Anthony draws back with a perplexed look. "Are you sure? Don't you want to..." He gestures vaguely to Aziraphale's lap.

He rolls his eyes. Of course he wants to. He's not quite learned how to refuse any chance at sex with Anthony Crowley just yet, nor does he have any plans to do so. But he's feeling rather indulgent and they were already heading back to his flat anyway. He gives Anthony a soft peck on the lips. "Yes, dearest. I want you so badly I think I might combust."

Anthony smirks, his hand wandering down to Aziraphale's erection. Aziraphale stops it and brings it up to his lips instead, brushing a kiss to his jutting knuckles with artful reverence.

Anthony's eyes are wide, carefully observing his every action. 

"What're you doing?"

Aziraphale kisses his knuckles again, rubs his thumb over them, sighing. "We have time, darling. When we get to my flat, you may  _ undo _ me all you like," he says, blushing fiercely.

With a soft chuckle, Anthony crawls off his lap. "No need to remind me. I intend to do just that," he says with an arresting wink as he exits the car.

* * *

His hands are roaming heated paths all over Aziraphale's torso before they even shut the door to his flat. 

There's a faint trickle of pain on the notch of his spine from when Anthony slammed him against the back of the door. Without warning, Anthony is all over him. His mouth nipping down the edge of his jaw, his hands sliding underneath his waistcoat with wandering fingers. Aziraphale’s chest beats wildly, his cock showing great interest in the proceedings. Every instinct in his head urges him to arch into Anthony, to surrender to each flicker of heated sensation slowly cementing his veins. His lips press onto Anthony's ear and he breaths raggedly while a wet mouth trails kisses down the side of his neck.

This is all starting to go a bit too fast. Aziraphale was rather hoping for a warm meal and a long cuddling session on the couch before they head into the peak event. If he doesn't stop this soon, he'll slip all the way down into the depths of Anthony's demonic spell. Not that he's particularly averse to the idea of being pounded right now, but there really is no need for them to rush.

"M-my dear..." He trails off into a moan when a hand moves down to grab his arse. "Oh!"

Anthony chuckles onto his shoulder. "Stay still for me, angel."

That voice never fails to bring a pleasant shiver down his spine. Aziraphale can feel his resolve crumbling. Oh, he really must stop this before it gets out of hand.

"Anthony—"

It only takes him a moment to blink and then Anthony is on his knees, his face twisted in deep concentration while his hands wage a war with Aziraphale's trousers. There's so much heat, so much eagerness radiating from him. His hands are far too fidgety, moving anxiously while they unzip him and squeeze his erection, eliciting a gasp.

He hooks his hands under Anthony's armpits, hauling him back up. He's met with an incredulous stare.

"Dear, slow down. What is going on?" he asks gently, fighting the urge to lay a hand on Anthony's cheek.

"What do you mean what's going on?" Anthony snarls in reply. "I'm giving you your  _ reward." _

Anthony's mouth captures his and he can't help but be drawn into the needy kiss, answering with a loud moan. But his mind is whirling, making an attempt to process what seems to be something that went completely unnoticed since the day he met Anthony. He recalls that air of carelessness, that casual cockiness that embellished Anthony's stride when he approached Aziraphale in that alley. No hint of hesitation. Surmising exactly what Aziraphale needed just from a few longing looks sent from across the table. He said that Aziraphale was too transparent, but even with all of Anthony's commanding brilliance, he realises now that can't possibly be all of it.

His hands press onto Anthony's sturdy chest, gently pushing back.

"Wait. Please."

Anthony stops, mildly annoyed as he stares at him.

Aziraphale takes in a breath, hoping that he isn't wrong in his assumption. His fingers play with Anthony's cotton shirt, gliding over his shoulder.

"You know you aren't obligated to thank me with sex every time I do something for you,” Aziraphale says slowly. “My dear, you  _ do _ know that, right?"

He's met with silence, but the burning look of shame on Anthony's face is all the answer he needs. He sighs.

"Forgive me if I have come to the wrong conclusion." Aziraphale tightens his grip, preventing Anthony from pulling back. "But it seems to me that you are... that this is..."

Anthony's gaze shifts down to the floor. "In my job, I tend to meet a lot of... yeah."

Aziraphale nods. He isn't offended, though it's a bit of a chore to say it out loud. "I understand that I am not the first..." He shuts his eyes.  _ Sugar daddy,  _ his mind supplies, though he still can't say it out loud. He doesn't need to, though. 

Rough hands grasp his face and Anthony searches him with a look so earnest that he wants to melt right into it.

"That's not what you are," Anthony says, thumbs stroking his cheeks and making his knees wobble. "Trust me. I never had any of this with all the others. You're...  _ fuck, _ Aziraphale. You're different. You're better." Anthony kisses him hard. "I hate how cheesy this sounds but you're so  _ perfect _ for me. Do you... is that okay?"

Aziraphale nuzzles into his palm, his shoulders sagging. "More than, dearest. It's mutual. Entirely mutual."

Anthony's lips part in shock. Aziraphale hates how he can switch from maddeningly sexy to adorable with little effort. And oh, how he loves him.

Oh.

He  _ loves _ Anthony Crowley.

By instinct, his eyes flick upwards to the ceiling, the tip of a prayer on his tongue.

Anthony circles his arms around his waist and pulls him in, and he doesn't get to make the prayer. "That's very good, angel." He tries to sound menacing, but he only looks relieved. His handsome smile tugs on Aziraphale's heart.

"You and I, we never really talk, do we?"

Anthony grins. "You're too good a fuck for much talking, gorgeous."

A delighted flush floods his face and neck. Aziraphale giggles. "We can still do all that while communicating properly."

"So you still want to continue this?" Anthony can act cool all he wants, but there's no denying the disbelief in his tone.

"More than anything."

"Angel." Anthony kisses him and starts taking off his clothes.

This time, Aziraphale doesn't stop him. Dinner and cuddling be damned. He tugs off Anthony's shirt, taking no time in exploring the toned chest and stomach before him, a sight he will surely never tire of.

Anthony pulls back briefly from the kiss, looking into his eyes. 

"You know it goes both ways, right?" he says softly, very far from his bedroom voice. He searches Aziraphale's face, but Aziraphale is too far gone into the thickness of his desire to register just how serious Anthony is. "If there's anything,  _ anything _ at all about the two of us that you're unclear about, you should tell me. I want you taken care of, and I think we've had enough cock-ups already to be misguided about any of this."

Aziraphale's answer is a tight nod, moving back in for a kiss. 

Anthony keeps himself some distance away, narrowing his eyes. "Because I feel like..." He shakes his head. "Sometimes when you say some things, that there's something you aren't telling me."

"I don't know what you mean," Aziraphale replies, eyeing Anthony's kiss-swollen lips, eager to get back to being snogged senseless. "I have not a doubt in my mind."

Anthony stares at him for a moment longer. It doesn't last long. 

"If you say so."

He resumes kissing Aziraphale, moves to lick and suck at his neck. Aziraphale leans back on the door, and with Anthony's wild red hair tickling his chin he looks up at the ceiling with a desperate moan.

_ Please,  _ he prays, on the verge of tears. 

_ Only a little more. Let me have him for just a little more. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you stick around for the last installment of the series ;)
> 
> Come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/angelsnuffbox) and/or [ Tumblr!](https://angelsnuffbox.tumblr.com/)


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